


The darkening room

by Running_on_a_rake (s_Sparrow_s)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Immobility, M/M, Mysticism, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_Sparrow_s/pseuds/Running_on_a_rake
Summary: In a dark, dark temple, in a dark, dark room, there is an altar. And to Wake up tied to it is definitely bad luck. The presence of a sort-of-enemy in close proximity is even worse. And don't get your hopes up, Jack. He never says anything nice — just nasty things.
Relationships: Jack Frost & Pitch Black, Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Kudos: 13





	The darkening room

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about putting an AU. After all, I did not put it: there are no direct discrepancies with the Canon. There is only a fair amount of left-wing mysticism)).

Feelings returned gradually, one by one. Touch: the cool stone surface under your back, the straps that bind your arms up, the warm, still air that envelops your naked body. Smell: faint smell of mustiness and dust. Hearing: your own ragged breathing, which you can't even control because it's scary. Taste: nothing, except that his mouth was dry. And maybe just a hint of bitterness. You shouldn't have drunk anything the Nightmare Lord touched. Even if it's milk from the mug on Jamie's Desk.   
Vision... nothing. Nothing at all. Darkness, inky and impenetrable. Jack blinked several times to make sure that his eyes were all right physically. It was just really dark.  
Touch. A touch to the chest — across, slightly scratching the skin. So, that he flinched and tried to hit at random with his knee, fortunately, his legs were free. However, I hit only the heel on the chipped edge of the stone. Unpleasantly.   
Hearing. A soft chuckle, and then a familiar, unfortunately very familiar voice.  
"Don't fight it, Jack. Then it won't hurt.  
The ice spirit would not be himself if he followed this advice. He tried to kick pitch, guided by the voice, but was caught by The ankle, stopping the kick. And then someone else's hands pinned his legs just above his knees, making it impossible for him to kick any further.   
— What are you doing, are you out of your mind?" Jack tried unsuccessfully to escape. It had never occurred to him that pitch — lean, sometimes like an immaterial shadow — might be physically stronger than He was. So much stronger that all attempts to resist are wasted. — Let me go now!"  
It didn't sound very convincing.  
"No," the dark one said with a short laugh.  
— Do you have any idea what the Keepers will do to you when they find out?" And what will I do when…  
"The keepers know," Pitch said in a low voice, but Jack stopped in mid-sentence. He took a sharp breath and said confidently:  
"You're lying.  
"They know, Jack, they know. I warned the Northerner that if they didn't come up with an alternative to the ritual, I'd pick you up three days before the deadline and do what I thought was best. There were no objections. You were given to me, Jack.  
"You're lying," he said, his confidence waning, though he tried desperately to hide it. — They couldn't.  
"Of course they could," the Nightmare Lord said with a hint of condescending mockery. — When it comes to what people not quite unreasonably call "the end of the world", some methods for some reason become unacceptable acceptable. So they gave you away. They chose the least evil. However... no, I'm lying a little.  
\- Huh?   
— The tooth Fairy offered to replace you. Would you rather she were in your place?.. Pitch added in an insinuating whisper. — There's still time. You can also arrange a replacement.  
\- No!  
"I'm not surprised," he chuckled with some satisfaction. — What was it about?" No one can save you, Jack. It won't save you. I'll do whatever I need to do with you. Whatever I want. If you don't resist, it will be easier.  
"You... you...creature ," Jack said, twitching in an unsuccessful attempt to hit him. Get him to stop saying that somehow. He didn't want to believe it. But I couldn't help but believe it.  
Because… The Easter Bunny tried to warn him. Now he realized that the half-joking taunts were warnings. He did not give them values. Still: how could he think that he really should be afraid of Pitching? For the past seven years, the spirit of darkness has done nothing against the Keepers. He didn't hide in his hole, but he avoided collisions. Jack saw him more than once, and sometimes communicated with him (although it was a strange communication: Pitch mocked, Jack first tried to answer, and then could not stand it, grabbed the staff, and then the dark one simply disappeared into the shadows). This is more of a truce than a war. How could he have expected an attack... and that he would be left alone? That no one will help him?  
"So be it," the Nightmare Lord replied with carefully measured indifference. — I don't want to lose an opportunity to get you because of this, do I?"  
Jack gasped with indignation: at the shameless directness of the words, at the way pitch ran his hand up His leg to his stomach. The darkness remained just as impenetrable, making it impossible to prepare, making all movements unexpected. It was possible to resist. It was useless to resist.   
The dark one was still holding his hip with one hand, gripping his fingers fiercely, almost bruising them; the other was pushing his knee to the side, forcing him to spread his legs. Jack stood still, no longer flinching at the touch of his hand on his stomach and chest. The tight bands of straps around her wrists completed the feeling of helplessness. It seems that indifference was the best option. Only be able to…   
Pitch no longer held him. The quick, light touch of her hands was almost caressing. Jack breathed deeply and evenly, strangely calm and feeling nothing. He was aware that the dark one was surprisingly cautious. I didn't even try to figure out why. Indifference?  
Warm, dry lips pressed against the hollow of her collarbone for a few moments. The painfully bitter whisper was no louder than a breath: "This is not what I wanted. Not true».  
Perhaps it was the silence that weighed on his ears. Because of her, Jack heard things he wasn't supposed to hear.   
For a few seconds, Pitch froze, lost himself in the darkness, and then his fingertips touched his shoulders, neck, and chest again. He painted it with warmth that contrasted with the icy coldness of his skin.   
Was Jack deluding himself when he detected a hopeless tenderness in those touches? It seems that indifference did not work out after all.  
\- Stop! he managed to say it confidently enough that the Pitch actually stopped — from surprise, apparently. "Pitch, wait," he said quickly, trying to connect all the thoughts that came to mind. "Tell me what the ritual is." And what you wanted. Or didn't want to.  
Whether it would do any good, he had no idea. The Nightmare Lord might just ignore his questions. Although it still seemed that now he would not ignore it.   
"That's a long explanation," Pitch said with a low chuckle.  
— Are we in a hurry?" Jack retorted with desperate audacity. — You said the deadline was three days away.  
— Only an idiot would delay the ritual until the deadline…  
— What kind of ritual is this?" Why does everyone know about it but me? It's not fair! there was childish resentment in her voice. Completely sincere. Maybe that's why Pitch agreed.  
"Okay, I'll explain. December 21, 2012-does the date mean anything to you?   
Jack thought for a moment, then said in a half-interrogative voice:  
— The end of the world according to the Mayan calendar?.. - people raised so much noise around it that it was impossible not to notice and remember. Although, of course, he did not believe in the end of the world.  
— Not exactly the end of the world, but you're basically right.  
"It's June," Jack said, wondering if he was an idiot or if he was Pitch.  
"The Mayans didn't have leap years. So if you recalculate the date with this in mind, it's not December at all.  
Jack didn't understand, so he just had to take his word for it. However, as in everything else. "It's a pity your eyes don't glow in the dark."  
— What?" Pitch was surprised now. He was as genuinely surprised as Jack. Logic eluded him a little more than completely.  
— If they were, I'd at least see where you are."  
Now the location of the dark spirit was determined solely by touch. However, quite clearly defined: he was sitting on the edge of the altar, half turned, so that it was difficult to bring his thighs together. The young Keeper snorted softly at the inappropriate outburst of amusement — and without thinking, swung one leg over his lap. Perhaps if he could see the expression on pitch's face now, it would cheer Him up.   
— You don't get distracted, explain-although, of course, in fact, it was mostly him who was distracted here. — The end of the world according to the Mayan calendar, which is not the end of the world. Yeah?  
"Aha," the Nightmare Lord echoed reflexively. "Jack, what do you mean?"  
— If I have to lie on a hard stone altar, at least I'll lie where I'm comfortable."   
— Is that convenient for you?" "but Pitch didn't try to push him away. The boy's chatter seemed to unsettle him. Or maybe he just didn't mind the arrangement.  
"More or less. It would be more convenient if you untied me, but you can't untie me… So go ahead and tell me.  
— Okay, — maybe he smiled. Just a little. It was too dark to see anything in the inky darkness. — The fact is that the Mayans — and not only them — believed in the wrath of the gods. To the end of the world, you might say. They invented it, believed it, and tried to prevent it. And everything would be fine, but they believed too much. So that this phenomenon became real independently of them: the release of raw energy, the consequences of which will be felt for years, if not decades. And people, unfortunately, believe in the end of the world, although in a different way, and there are more and more of them on the planet. This serves as a catalyst.  
— But…   
— What, you don't know what a catalyst is?"  
"I know," Jack said with an offended snort. What does it have to do with me? Why me?  
— You are the source of the compensator energy. The ritual is necessary to smooth out the effect of the release, and this is an energy-intensive process. You are a strong entity. For example, the Tooth Fairy, according to my calculations, would not have survived the necessary energy consumption. You'll survive.   
The ice spirit seemed to understand. Or pretended to understand. — Why... like this?" he held his breath, waiting for an answer.  
— Because the alternative is sacrifice. Optimal-with cutting out the heart, as did the Mayans and Aztecs.  
Pitch said it calmly, even matter-of-factly, and Jack flinched at the idea that had suddenly formed in his mind…  
— You used to... you used to do this, didn't you? " the whisper came out ragged, rough, as if it had scratched dry lips.  
"No," the dark spirit said after a few seconds. — How can you imagine that if I can't physically interact with adults?" I was trying to find someone who could continue the work of the Mayan priests. Performing the ritual on yourself is inconvenient, you know... but, unfortunately, I didn't find it. After all, they solved the problem using the methods available to them, through blood and death. It took a lot of sacrifice to get the right amount of energy. Humans are weak creatures.  
Jack didn't want to answer that, although he couldn't help noticing that Pitch hadn't mentioned the possibility of interacting with children. But the one thing that stuck with pain in the head.  
— On yourself?" How's that? he wasn't sure he wanted to know how.  
— Knife.  
Jack swallowed hard, trying not to imagine... anything. The brevity of the answer was of little use; one word was more impressive than the possible explanations.   
"The Mayans feared the wrath of their gods," Pitch said in a low voice, remembering and apparently not addressing the other. But Jack was ready to be distracted from his thoughts. "They made sacrifices to appease them. Whether these gods were real, or whether they were only a reflection of faith, is not so important. But the faith was so strong that, cemented by blood, it outlived people and became a force in itself. The Mayan civilization was in decline, and there was no one to shed blood to feed the Great Serpent… And the cataclysms did not stop, because people, even other people, believed. At the Last judgment, for example, " pitch's tone suggested that He grimaced. — It's strange to feel like the heir of priests to a civilization younger than yourself.  
"You said you didn't make a sacrifice," Jack whispered.  
— I said I didn't cut out anyone's heart." When the time came for another burst of energy, my victim was a Northerner. Voluntarily, if you're interested. We agreed to Pitch chuckled. — And not like you, you spoiled child, just thought. "It's been a Long time, it's been a pain, it's been a pain, and I've put a lot of my strength into it, but in the end it still turned out to be, as modern children say, a mess. I had to be sure that I had made a promise there, and then I might have had enough energy to kill him.  
"Don't say that, don't," the words came out in a soft sigh. — You don't think so, do you?" If I did, I wouldn't doubt it.  
"You're an idealist, Jack," the Nightmare Lord said with his usual mocking intonation, but there was a hint of bitterness in it. — Don't try to think better of me than I'm worth.   
— Will you kill me if you don't have enough power?" Jack asked quickly and sharply instead of objecting.  
— No. Just don't — " Pitch broke off in the middle of a sentence. The question was too unexpected (though, come to think of it, it was well-timed and well-reasoned), delivered clearly and forcefully, so that he answered almost reflexively, without considering what he was going to say.  
Jack snorted softly and kneed him in the stomach.  
"An idealist, you say?" Well, maybe. But tell me one more thing: why couldn't I have explained everything right away? Ask them nicely. Without negotiating with the Keepers behind my back and this stupid kidnapping. If you would explain... I would agree.   
"Let me doubt it.  
"Let's say I know myself better," Jack said, mimicking the other's sarcastic tone. — What good reason would I have to refuse?" Especially if the moon-faced Northerner or confirmed presence of a problem — could not resist it from the studs. There was no way to get confirmation now. I could only take my word for it. — And this ritual is too serious a thing to just refuse, isn't it?"  
— And its contents are not the reason?"  
— No. I would have thought it wouldn't be unpleasant, so there's no reason.   
A soft, rustling whisper spread through the darkness.  
— What is it?"  
— Nothing. Forget.   
— I'll remember and then ask, - the boy was being naughty and again with something amused. However, he is the Keeper of Fun — he can. — Now go ahead and do it." You explained everything to me, and I understood, believed, and understood, so we can continue the ritual.   
— Is it possible?"  
— May. Need. In any case, it's necessary, right? And anyway, "Jack laughed shortly," why am I trying to persuade you?" Is this for me or for you?  
— Whole. Or no one. The energy release is not the end of the world, although it is a serious nuisance. Maybe even no one will die... well, over the norm, people are constantly dying and without any abnormalities. And, by the way, it is not my profile to solve such problems, " the Lord of Nightmares spoke evenly and even somewhat wearily.  
"But it's probably mine." I'm the Keeper, " Jack snorted softly once more, and then the amusement was gone from His voice.   
— Nothing. Pitch moved, placing a hand on his solar plexus. — I'll do the ritual, don't worry.  
— That's really be so kind. It's interesting to chat with you, but if it turns out that you brought me here just for this — it will be kind of funny.  
"Don't be ridiculous. Do you think I can't see that you're afraid? the dark one drawled mockingly, running his fingers over his chest. Jack might have lost his sight in the dark, but for the Lord of Nightmares, the darkness was never impenetrable. To some extent, he could even see the outline of a body, let alone fear…  
The goal was achieved: Jack was offended and fell silent. So what could you say in a half whisper:  
"Don't be afraid," before returning to the... ritual.  
Still, he was thinking more of his own business than of his own as he stroked the cold skin, tracing the curves of the lean body. Jack did not react, accepted the touch indifferently, but still his immobility was not the same as in the beginning. Not resistance through inaction. Just a relaxed calm — he was almost no longer afraid. Pitch was grateful for that. For not feeling like a beast.  
He ruffled the young Keeper's already disheveled hair, ran a finger along his cheekbone, and traced the outline of his lips with a shadow of uncertainty. Jack, suddenly frozen from his immobility, bit the tip of his finger, and after a couple of moments let go and cheekily mocked breathed:  
— Why don't you go ahead and give me a kiss?"  
Pitch obediently bowed to his lips. He forbade himself to think about anything and analyze it — just kissed it, gently and carefully, not expecting Jack to respond. At first the icy breath almost burned, and then either he got used to it, or the winter spirit took its power under control. And even though Jack only allowed himself to be kissed, Pitch didn't want to be interrupted. But it wasn't worth the risk of deepening the kiss. He checked himself angrily: "If you really want to do something with your tongue, come up with another option, idiot," and, pulling away for a few moments, went lower, to the neck and collarbone. First he ran his lips over the cold skin, then he licked the base of her neck. An untimely Association about children, iron swings, and the cold made him snort under his breath. Good thing it was just an Association, right?   
— What is it?" Jack was immediately interested.  
"Have you ever licked an iron lantern in the cold?» Pitch quoted a phrase he'd picked up from somewhere, not thinking how the spirit of fun would react. And he reacted accordingly. Laughed.   
It didn't seem to hurt, but Pitch wanted it to stop. And he stopped-kissed her on the mouth again, still almost innocently, but confident enough to stop the laughter.  
It took him a few seconds to realize that the ice statue was alive and responding to his touch. She answers warily and hesitantly, but it was so unexpected and so pleasant that... it just couldn't be real.   
"Will you untie me?" Jack asked in a short pause, and Pitch shivered, as if his breath had become icy again.   
— No, - bitterly, painfully, isn't it? But this was to be expected. — Don't expect me to lose my head and let you escape.  
"Pitch, what are you doing?" I just… I want to hug you — " the young Keeper finished the sentence almost plaintively. Perplexedly. When he said that he would not be displeased, he meant exactly what he said, and did not think that he would like it. That you want to continue. Participate. — Are you afraid I'll disrupt your ritual?" Or that I will deceive you?  
— I think it's the same thing."  
"Not at all," Jack said flatly. — I could say that, but you're smart. You can't help but realize that it's not the same thing. You don't want to understand, do you?   
"Stop talking," Pitch tried to interrupt, but he wasn't sure. In fact, there was probably only one sure way to stop the ice spirit right now: to kiss it again. A way he wouldn't have used for anything.  
— We are in complete darkness, and I have no staff… Do you think that if I try to do something wrong, you won't be able to stop it?  
"I don't think so," the dark one admitted. I couldn't keep silent, but I should have.  
Jack sighed, very tired and grown-up.   
"So you're afraid I'll cheat." Pitch ... trust me, please.   
— No, I don't think it was a considered and measured response. It doesn't look like the Nightmare Lord even realized what he said.  
"Trust me," Jack said softly. He didn't insist, or even persuade — he asked, quietly and sincerely, hoping that it would be enough. — You can't always... like this." You are welcome. Everything will be alright.  
The dark spirit didn't answer, and he didn't know what it meant. The inability to see her expression was almost excruciating. Still, vision is an important thing, although you don't always understand it. I had to focus only on hearing... and what about hearing? Regular and quiet breathing, nothing more.   
When Pitch reached for his wrists and undid the straps, Jack realized that he had been afraid to breathe, waiting for an answer. For a few moments, he didn't move, assessing how numb his hands were. Then, when he was sure that they weren't nearly numb, he put his arm around Pitch shoulders and pulled him down on top of him. I whispered, my lips almost touching his ear:  
\- Gotcha!  
This, of course, was just petty vindictiveness. And the joke turned out to be evil… But, to be honest, there was a reason. I shouldn't have delayed it, though. Before the tense Mocker could do anything unnecessary and irreversible, Jack continued to speak in a quick whisper.  
"I won't let you go, okay?" Until you stop thinking I'm going to cheat you, I won't let you go.  
Pitch didn't say anything, because in a couple of seconds he felt hopeless, not afraid, and didn't know what to do about it. He didn't want to admit that the young Keeper was right about what he was afraid of. That it was really so important to him.   
"You'll let me go," he said, trying to keep his voice soft with mockery and no other emotion. — Because I'm not comfortable lying like you dropped me."   
"All right, make it comfortable," the ice spirit agreed. Only here to let go, in fact, did not let go, only loosened his grip. He still had his legs around his waist and his arms around his shoulders.  
An almost obscene position, considering that Jack was undressed and Pitch was partially clothed. And trying to move only made it worse. Up to this point, he had been able to ignore his excitement, but now it was almost impossible.   
Only whether on its?..  
Jack's body was pressed against his again, and this closeness did not leave him indifferent. It seems that he has not even realized this fact yet, because if he did, he would be embarrassed.   
"Is it convenient?" Jack chuckled softly, locking his fingers together to keep the Pitch from moving away. Not that he was going to move away… But at that moment I realized that Jack had already realized everything. And confused — even as. The brash frankness of his words and actions was only an attempt to hide his embarrassment.   
Pitch leaned so close to Him that he almost whispered it, lips to lips. "But I think I can put up with it." The only thing I don't understand is that "— he drew back a little and was now speaking with painful earnestness — " half an hour ago you wanted to kill me for touching you. Now you're ready…  
— Yes.  
"Yes what?"  
"Yes, I'm ready."  
— That's good, but that's not what I meant. Why?  
Jack didn't think long.  
— Because you were a jerk." And I reacted accordingly. And then... it turned out differently.  
He didn't know how to put it. It's just a different mosaic. So that it seemed right and necessary for the Pitch to be close, for him to believe, to... It flashed through my mind that, if there were no extreme situation, such a picture would still have developed. From the banter and skirmishes, from the emotions thrown in bits and pieces. Fifty years from now. And so it happened immediately.   
"Different?" I'd like to know what's going to happen to make you articulate your thoughts — where to Pitch without being mocked. In such matters.   
"The end of the world?" Jack suggested, and before the dark spirit could point out that it wasn't a very good joke under the circumstances, it leaned up and kissed him. Briefly, quickly, and immediately leaned back, and then touched his fingertips to the back of his neck and neck. Lightly, tickling along the edge of the hair, without even nudging Pitch to bend over, just pointing out the possibility.  
"Jack..." on a breath, just the name, because The nightmare Lord had too many stupid things in his head to say any of them out loud. It was really easier to kiss and not explain anything. And don't even accidentally say anything.   
"I want you to believe me," a low, insistent whisper in response, lips to lips again, no longer able to retreat. And there was no such possibility. For Pitch — from the very beginning.  
He kissed Jack — fiercely, wildly — to silence him, so that he would not have to answer. He didn't want to say that he already believed it. The winter spirit's lips didn't burn with cold, but they tasted like melted water. It was no longer clear who was leading the kiss, because Jack's enthusiasm made up for his lack of experience.   
Jack squeezed his hand between their bodies. A touch through the fabric of his pants, but Pitch still flinched. From slightly compressed fingers, from easy movement of the hand... something else in such a disposition is difficult to do. I should have changed it. And clothing, if you think about it, is not particularly necessary.  
Taking off your pants is not a difficult task, but when Jack haphazardly tries to help… Pitch managed to almost fall off the edge of the altar before getting rid of the extra item of clothing. After that, Jack didn't drop it on top of him again, but instead sat up to sit on his lap, face to face, again clasping his thighs with his own and hugging him tightly. Pitch hugged him back, leaning his cheek against his tousled, frosted hair. I was in no hurry to do anything, leaving him to decide what and when he wanted.  
His skin crawled, not from the cold, but from the way Jack ran his fingers along his spine, tracing the protruding knuckles. Pitch bit his lower lip as he tilted his head back to be kissed. His tongue penetrated her open mouth, feeling rather than hearing soft moans-sighs.   
The room was beginning to snow. Jack slid one hand down his back, over his hip, and leaned back a little to wrap his fingers around both his own and someone else's cock at once. Then Pitch couldn't help but moan.  
The touch of the winter spirit was like burning ice, or a slight coolness. It was as if he had lost control of his body temperature. Gusts of Blizzard wind stroked, sometimes almost scratched the skin. On the back, on the shoulders, on the chest, they were wrapped in a net. The body responded to the cold and touch with a shiver, almost ecstatic delight. Pitch for a very long time — never at all? — I didn't feel so alive... or so vulnerable." He depended on what Jack did to him — he who had never depended on anything! The feeling was mesmerizing.   
He was hugging a lean, lithe body, had long closed his eyes and, between kisses, inhaling snow, did not think about anything. Only a madman can make love to winter... " Love, eh, Lord of Nightmares?» The thought sobered her a little.   
He gripped the young Keeper's wrists, pulling him away from him. Gently, almost gently, but firmly. — I need to concentrate. Stop the snowstorm and — "I couldn't think of anything other than the stupid phrase" stop excessive activity " — " we need to perform a ritual, you know?" I can't do this while you're distracting me.  
Jack sighed softly, but he seemed to understand. — I just wanted... "he paused," to... make you feel good."  
I finished it. Stubborn boy. Although, if he were human, he would blush to the tips of his ears. However, in the dark it would still be impossible to see.  
«No need». Pitch didn't say anything out loud. He pressed a finger to Jack's lips to keep him quiet, too. In the dark, the Blizzard was dying down, dropping the last flakes of snow on their naked bodies.   
Pitch laid the winter spirit on the altar, just like in the beginning. Of course, he didn't tie it, just ran his hands over his chest, shoulders, and arms to indicate, "Lie still." Jack was alert, tense. He wasn't afraid, but the talk of blood sacrifice and heart-cutting was not lost on him. The idea that people had once died on this altar was untimely and unpleasant.   
The darkness around them came alive, obeying the will of The nightmare Lord. It was soft, fluid, and wrapped around her fingers. Poor people who have to deal with all sorts of extraneous means. The shadows were enough for him.   
— What are you doing?" Jack asked in a nervous whisper as he felt her touch first on his thighs, between his legs, and then inside, deep inside. — Does it have to be... with your fingers?"  
— If you start at once, without preparation, it will hurt you.  
Actually, it's not really necessary. You can do with strands of black sand that are sufficiently plastic for such a task. But that was not what Pitch wanted.   
— It hurts me, too." Jack sniffed softly.   
\- Relax, it will be easier.  
Pitch knew he wouldn't be in a hurry. Spend as much time as it takes to make the ritual as painless as possible for Jack.   
"It's all right. I'm not afraid.  
And even though he could hear the fear in the voice, see it tangled in a tight ball, He believed it. He caressed Jack with his other hand, distracting him until his tense body relaxed into a spasm. The young Guardian responded to every touch — sensitive, nervous, eyes closed and flinching. Obediently, he spread his thighs and moved toward her, taking in the sliding shadows and gently stretching his fingers.  
This would be enough — more than enough — if it were a question of desire, emotion, or pleasure. But not for a ritual that should replace the energy of blood and death. Pitch leaned over Jack, touched his lips to his forehead, to his closed eyelids, and then to his lips. It was the last caress he could afford.   
A long phrase in a language that even those who were biological descendants of the Mayan people would not have understood came out of his mouth with precision and precision. Jack screamed from the invasion into the body of foreign flesh is soft, smooth, but inevitably excessive.  
The next words of the ritual spell merged with the new movement. Jack bit his lips to keep from saying anything and stifled his sobs and moans, because it hurt. The pitch was as accurate as possible, but it wasn't enough. However, the cold was gradually spreading through his body — without control, awakened by the sound of the ancient language. The cold eased the sensation. The shadows, obeying their master's unspoken desire, curled over the skin of the winter spirit, caressing it as cool, strong fingers might have caressed the altar stone.  
Jack didn't know when the pain had subsided and ceased to matter. He bit his lip again, so as not to moan with pleasure and ask Pitch for nothing. Not this time. I just held his forearms tightly in my hands, not daring to touch them any other way.  
Apparently, at some point, the rhythm of the ritual phrases fascinated him so much that he lost consciousness of reality, because then he remembered only a surge of energy, and immediately after it — a bright flash of primitive physical pleasure. And a wild sense of emptiness.   
Pitch pulled away, but didn't leave. I stroked his cheek and ruffled his hair. Jack opened his eyes, saw that everything was still dark, and closed them again. Strands of black sand tickled his skin, collecting the seed: his own from his belly, and Pitch's seed leaking out. They didn't penetrate very deeply, and it didn't seem unpleasant now. What they did with the liquid is not clear... it looks like they somehow absorbed it. It was ridiculously strange, and Jack would have laughed if it hadn't been for the overwhelming desire for relaxed inaction. However, I still asked, unable to cope with my curiosity:  
"Pitch, is it always like this ... well, after?" So tired that you can't move?  
— Now you have almost lost your elemental power because of the ritual.  
Jack thought for a few seconds and said, " we'll have to try it later without the ritual."  
— If you want to."  
"I will," Jack said without a shadow of doubt.  
The Nightmare Lord said nothing. He had already received more than he had any right to expect.  
He sat on the edge of the altar for a moment, staring into the darkness, then shook himself and stood up. I should have dressed first. And the pitch-blackness was supposed to be comfortable for him, but not for the Keeper.  
Having already donned his usual mantle, Pitch went to the wall and, after some fumbling, lit a torch. Jack caught a glint of reddish light through his lowered lids and opened his eyes — but immediately closed them again from the unbearably bright light that appeared after a long darkness.  
"I need to get you dressed," pitch said thoughtfully, picking up some of The things that had been left on the floor. The staff leaned against the wall, as it turned out, was on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and fell with a loud thud.  
It would seem that after this, Jack should have immediately requested his favorite weapon, but he was occupied with a slightly different question. After Pitch's remark, he fully realized that he was completely naked… As long as he didn't see anything, it didn't seem important. But now it comes.  
He looked embarrassed enough for pitch to chuckle when He looked back:  
— Do you think there's something else I haven't seen?"  
Jack thought for a few seconds, then sighed.  
— You can see in the dark - " his eyes, however, did not stop hiding. Pitch did not comment on this. From embarrassment unlearn... over time, and now there is no sense, only upset. And if you say that he is beautiful — will be even more confused.  
\- Calm down, you will have your clothes. Especially since one of your colleagues will probably be here soon… I can't predict their reaction.   
— Why?"  
"The theory is a theory — I've given it to the Northerner honestly," Jack said, probably just imagining the gloating in his voice, " but I don't think any of them are willing or willing to really think about the content of the ritual."   
Jack would have shaken his head, but his body refused even such a simple movement. — How can you be sure that someone will come?" Soon?  
He didn't add: "You said I was ... given away. Thrown». I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't get rid of it once. I didn't want to think about Pitch lying to him, either.  
Something the dark spirit must have detected in his voice, for it sat down again on the edge of the altar and ruffled his hair. He replied, however, with his usual sarcasm:  
— Because they are predictable. The Northerner explained to them why the ritual was necessary, and no one would interfere, but after that they would come at once. They won't want to leave you with me for an extra minute. The surge of energy will not be noticed unless a blind person... well, or a person, so it is worth waiting for guests soon. I think the Easter Bunny is the easiest way to get into the inner chamber of the temple.   
At the same time, Pitch tried to dress Jack in a hoodie and pants, but it turned out to be much more difficult than undressing him. There was no help from the ritual-drained winter spirit, but he was looking at it, again thoroughly confused, so plaintively that Pitch was beginning to feel like a complete pervert. Yes, just now.   
Jack, a bit calmed by the dark one's words, tried to figure out what he thought about the Keepers and their inaction, and whether he was really angry at them, but it turned out — only about unintentionally Frank touches that distracted from any thoughts. Fortunately, the clothes were sorted out before he could think of anything wrong, because he couldn't do anything wrong now anyway. It would be a shame.  
And it was a good thing that he was dressed before the Rabbit arrived.   
"Jack, are you all right?" the panting Guardian of Hope flew out of the burrow and didn't jump at him immediately, just because he encountered Pitch's mocking, warning look. However, this would not have prevented him, if not for the instructions he received, which were repeated three times, one of them — in pictures.  
— Here is for you and came, — indifferently stated the dark spirit, ignoring the fact that the Rabbit froze with a boomerang at the ready and stared at him, to put it mildly, unfriendly.  
Jack gave a small sigh.  
— I'm not sure that…  
He couldn't finish the sentence, because pitch quickly picked Him up in his arms and, after a couple of steps, put him in the paws of the Rabbit, who was dazed by such arbitrariness. He barely managed to hide the boomerang, but successfully held the colleague and did not drop it. Jack, equally surprised, stopped in the middle of the sentence and didn't continue.  
"You need to recuperate, and the North pole and Antarctica are the best places to do that." He picked up the staff from the floor and thought about it, but he didn't understand it when the pain subsided and ceased to matter. He bit his lip again, so as not to moan with pleasure and ask Pitch for nothing. Not this time. I just held his forearms tightly in my hands, not daring to touch them any other way.  
Apparently, at some point, the rhythm of the ritual phrases fascinated him so much that he lost consciousness of reality, because then he remembered only a surge of energy, and immediately after it — a bright flash of primitive physical pleasure. And a wild sense of emptiness.   
Pitch pulled away, but didn't leave. I stroked his cheek and ruffled his hair. Jack opened his eyes, saw that everything was still dark, and closed them again. Strands of black sand tickled his skin, collecting the seed: his own from his belly, and Pitch's seed leaking out. They didn't penetrate very deeply, and it didn't seem unpleasant now. What they did with the liquid is not clear... it looks like they somehow absorbed it. It was ridiculously strange, and Jack would have laughed if it hadn't been for the overwhelming desire for relaxed inaction. However, I still asked, unable to cope with my curiosity:  
"Pitch, is it always like this ... well, after?" So tired that you can't move?  
— Now you have almost lost your elemental power because of the ritual.  
Jack thought for a few seconds and said, " we'll have to try it later without the ritual."  
— If you want to."  
"I will," Jack said without a shadow of doubt.  
The Nightmare Lord said nothing. He had already received more than he had any right to expect.  
He sat on the edge of the altar for a moment, staring into the darkness, then shook himself and stood up. I should have dressed first. And the pitch-blackness was supposed to be comfortable for him, but not for the Keeper.  
Having already donned his usual mantle, Pitch went to the wall and, after some fumbling, lit a torch. Jack caught a glint of reddish light through his lowered lids and opened his eyes — but immediately closed them again from the unbearably bright light that appeared after a long darkness.  
"I need to get you dressed," pitch said thoughtfully, picking up some of The things that had been left on the floor. The staff leaned against the wall, as it turned out, was on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and fell with a loud thud.  
It would seem that after this, Jack should have immediately requested his favorite weapon, but he was occupied with a slightly different question. After Pitch's remark, he fully realized that he was completely naked… As long as he didn't see anything, it didn't seem important. But now it comes.  
He looked embarrassed enough for pitch to chuckle when He looked back:  
— Do you think there's something else I haven't seen?"  
Jack thought for a few seconds, then sighed.  
— You can see in the dark - " his eyes, however, did not stop hiding. Pitch did not comment on this. From embarrassment unlearn... over time, and now there is no sense, only upset. And if you say that he is beautiful — will be even more confused.  
\- Calm down, you will have your clothes. Especially since one of your colleagues will probably be here soon… I can't predict their reaction.   
— Why?"  
"The theory is a theory — I've given it to the Northerner honestly," Jack said, probably just imagining the gloating in his voice, " but I don't think any of them are willing or willing to really think about the content of the ritual."   
Jack would have shaken his head, but his body refused even such a simple movement. — How can you be sure that someone will come?" Soon?  
He didn't add: "You said I was ... given away. Thrown». I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't get rid of it once. I didn't want to think about Pitch lying to him, either.  
Something the dark spirit must have detected in his voice, for it sat down again on the edge of the altar and ruffled his hair. He replied, however, with his usual sarcasm:  
— Because they are predictable. The Northerner explained to them why the ritual was necessary, and no one would interfere, but after that they would come at once. They won't want to leave you with me for an extra minute. The surge of energy will not be noticed unless a blind person... well, or a person, so it is worth waiting for guests soon. I think the Easter Bunny is the easiest way to get into the inner chamber of the temple.   
At the same time, Pitch tried to dress Jack in a hoodie and pants, but it turned out to be much more difficult than undressing him. There was no help from the ritual-drained winter spirit, but he was looking at it, again thoroughly confused, so plaintively that Pitch was beginning to feel like a complete pervert. Yes, just now.   
Jack, a bit calmed by the dark one's words, tried to figure out what he thought about the Keepers and their inaction, and whether he was really angry at them, but it turned out — only about unintentionally Frank touches that distracted from any thoughts. Fortunately, the clothes were sorted out before he could think of anything wrong, because he couldn't do anything wrong now anyway. It would be a shame.  
And it was a good thing that he was dressed before the Rabbit arrived.   
"Jack, are you all right?" the panting Guardian of Hope flew out of the burrow and didn't jump at him immediately, just because he encountered Pitch's mocking, warning look. However, this would not have prevented him, if not for the instructions he received, which were repeated three times, one of them — in pictures.  
— Here is for you and came, — indifferently stated the dark spirit, ignoring the fact that the Rabbit froze with a boomerang at the ready and stared at him, to put it mildly, unfriendly.  
Jack gave a small sigh.  
— I'm not sure that…  
He couldn't finish the sentence, because pitch quickly picked Him up in his arms and, after a couple of steps, put him in the paws of the Rabbit, who was dazed by such arbitrariness. He barely managed to hide the boomerang, but successfully held the colleague and did not drop it. Jack, equally surprised, stopped in the middle of the sentence and didn't continue.  
"You need to recuperate, and the North pole and Antarctica are the best places to do that." He picked up the staff from the floor and, after a moment's thought, shoved it at the Rabbit. The man only snorted angrily and twitched his ears, as if he was trying hard to contain some sharpness. — The choice, I think, is obvious.  
The choice, of course, was obvious, even though Jack liked Antarctica... but it was boring. Especially if you can't fly. And in General, one is bored. Jack sighed again.  
"And you?"  
How to "clean up" a stone box with all the furniture made up of an altar was beyond the comprehension of both Keepers, judging by the simultaneous glances they cast at Pitch. "Then... we'll see," it sounded like a promise for some reason. The rabbit frowned angrily. Jack smiled slyly.  
"Good. Agreed.  
The rabbit seemed to want to say something, but still managed to remain silent. First, the Northerner insisted that he avoid confrontation (and it is inconvenient to enter into it when the paws are busy). Second — to keep Jack from getting on his nerves. Although it looked like the Keeper of Fun was doing better than his companions had feared…  
The hole slammed shut, leaving no trace on the stone floor. Pitch sat back on the edge of the altar, head tilted back, watching the shadows dance on the wall. The winter wind can't be held back by force. If he wants to, he'll come back.


End file.
